Orange is the New Conspiracy

Tanning, as an indoor activity, is an expression of faith. It’s not worship of a sun god so much as a demonstration of resolve in the face of reason, by way of climbing into a coffin-like radiation box, with arms outstretched, in anticipation of a better you. Tanning has an ardent, if select, body of practitioners—some thirty million Americans, according to a recent estimate. Nicole Polizzi, a.k.a. Snooki, who may be their patron saint, has identified tan as her race (“Jersey Shore,” Season 2). A tanner’s primary aim is aesthetic, though some will say that they are preparing their skin for a vacation at a sunny locale, or amping up on Vitamin D. Joe Levy, who is not a doctor but serves as a scientific adviser to the American Suntanning Association, told me, “People who live and work outdoors have higher Vitamin D levels. The average indoor-tanning customer has about ninety per cent higher Vitamin D levels than nonusers. This is a cosmetic business, but it has that side advantage.”

And yet, just after summer’s halfway mark, Acting Surgeon General Boris Lushniak, a dermatologist by training, issued a call to action: ultraviolet radiation is very bad, so stop tanning, or you might get cancer. This may not be news, but it was the first statement of its kind from the country’s most powerful doctor, and perhaps it would have been nice to hear, say, several years ago, in New Jersey, as reassurance for abstaining from the ritual pre-prom bake. Last year, twenty-seven per cent of girls in the twelfth grade used some indoor-tanning device; about a third of white women between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five get indoor tans each year, according to the Surgeon General. He wrote, “Initiating indoor tanning at younger ages appears to be more strongly related to lifetime skin cancer risk.” Nevertheless, achieving the ideal shade of orange seems less a science than an art, such as it is, and this leaves the matter of tanning’s virtue up to some interpretation.

John Overstreet, the executive director of Indoor Tanning Association, Incorporated—a trade group “founded to protect the freedom of individuals to acquire a suntan,” according to its mission statement—was disturbed by the Surgeon General’s words. “Sun is the source of light on this planet,” he told me. A doctor might point out that UV radiation and cigarettes both contain carcinogens. But Overstreet dismissed any comparison to tobacco. “That’s just patently absurd,” he said. “It’s going to scare people in some ways, but people are smart enough to know that we weren’t born to live in caves.”

Indoor tanning has had a few rough seasons. In 2010, the Federal Trade Commission issued a complaint against the I.T.A., alleging that its advertisements falsely assured customers that tanning was totally safe. The F.T.C. then released a consumer alert enumerating the health risks. The same year, the federal government implemented a ten-per-cent tax on tanning-bed services. Snooki blamed President Obama. “I feel like he did that intentionally for us,” she said then. “McCain would never put a ten-per-cent tax on tanning, because he’s pale and he’d probably want to be tan.” (Snooki announced that she would switch to spray tans; the Surgeon General points out that it can be dangerous to inhale those chemicals, and notes that “the promotion of sunless tanning products does not address the underlying social norms that drive tanning behaviors.”)

Last year, the Food and Drug Administration proposed reclassifying tanning beds from “low-risk” to “moderate-risk” devices. “That was marketing, so that a politician could say something,” Levy said. “It will not affect the consumer experience in the salon one iota.” The F.D.A. also said that it wants to formally recommend that people under eighteen (the prom years) avoid indoor tanning altogether. Around the same time, New Jersey Governor Chris Christie signed legislation banning children under seventeen from commercial tanning beds, after a leathery woman named Patricia Krentcil was arrested for bringing her five-year-old daughter to a tanning booth in Nutley. The Tan Mom Law, as the bill became known, was as notable for cramping Jersey style as it was for driving Christie to regulate business.

“The frustrating thing, I think—and a lot of people don’t realize this—is that there’s a lot of politics to this,” Overstreet said. The dermatology lobby is out to demonize tanning, he explained. “This industry has been under attack since the recession.” There are about fourteen thousand tanning salons in the United States—plus services at gyms, spas, etc.—and, according to Overstreet, forty per cent of them have closed in the past five years.

“There are so many financial industries in our economy that benefit from vilifying sun exposure,” Levy said. “It’s a way bigger business than tanning beds will ever be.” Take, for instance, the doctors. “There are more dermatologists per capita today than there were in the seventies, and they are more aggressive about screening for skin cancer. There are a lot of false positives going on. I’m not saying anybody is doing anything wrong, but we know that the criteria in being told you have skin cancer today is much different—and they have financial incentives.” The Surgeon General’s call to action read to Levy “like the American Academy of Dermatology talking points.” He believes sunscreen companies also merit suspicion. “The continued usage of sunscreen is likely the cause of the drop in vitamin D”—a real thing for many Americans, but scientists would say that it’s better dealt with via a change in diet (more fatty fish and vitamins) than flashes of UV light. Levy went on, “I’m not saying not to use it. I use it to prevent sunburn. But the overuse of sunscreen is potentially a health issue, and a public-health issue down the road”—not a real thing; the Surgeon General says sunscreen has no deleterious side effects. “This is a marketing campaign,” Levy explained. “I call it ‘sun scare’ instead of sun care.”

“With all these things, why do people do it?” Overstreet asked. “I think intuitively people know that, in moderation, it’s not so bad.” There’s beauty in believing. “A lot of people think it makes them look good. And I happen to agree with that.”

Rear Admiral Boris Lushniak became Acting Surgeon General in July, 2013. He spent sixteen years working for the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, carrying out special assignments in places like Bangladesh, Russia, Kosovo, and Ground Zero. When I asked him about the tanning lobby’s charges, he said, “Conspiracy theories come up. I don’t see how you can demonize an expert that takes the best scientific explanation and looks at data.” In the summer, he advised, “it’s not a matter of us cocooning ourselves. It’s a matter of wearing those wide-brim hats, putting on sunglasses, wearing protective clothing, and wearing sunscreen.” He added, “You want to look old quickly? Go out and sun tan needlessly.”